How Rare and Beautiful
by writtenbyallygrace
Summary: "To be soft is to be powerful." ( A collection of 100-300 word drabbles focusing on Queenie Goldstein. )
1. Winter

Winter is heavy. Of course, there's plenty to enjoy about the season –– snow is an absolute delight and what sensible person ever said no to a steaming cup of cocoa. Even Christmas isn't despicable. Perhaps she and Tina didn't celebrate the holiday themselves, but that didn't make the decorations any less breathtaking. In fact, the decorated trees are one of Queenie's favorite sights ( though they certainly couldn't compare to the lit candles in the menorah at home ).

Still, for all its beauty and glamour, Queenie couldn't help thinking that winter is heavy. With all the outerwear –– the coats, the wool –– it all reads as weighted. People are much more melancholy in the winter too; their thoughts pull her down with them as she walks through the city, just trying to get from one place to the next. ( She tries not to go out much if she can avoid it because of she worries she might drown in sadness if she lets herself stay out in the thoughts for too long. )

Winter isn't awful, but Queenie much prefers the spring.


	2. Lessons

"Be careful who you put your trust in." ( It was something she learned at a shockingly young age. ) "Especially where boys and men are concerned."

At school, even an innocent invitation to study was code for stolen kisses and red hot thoughts that she couldn't help but pick up on. She never asked to be desired, you see. At only thirteen years old, the last thing she wanted was to hear the thoughts of men –––– some ten, fifteen, even twenty years older –––– as she walked past on her way home during the summer months. She never asked for that attention. Young Queenie never got the luxury of innocence –– not when the world's uncensored thoughts and life stories were all but at her fingertips...

It wasn't that she didn't like that she was pretty. Rather the opposite. She loved her long, curly locks and the way her eyes sparkled when she smiled. But as she grew from a cute girl into a beautiful woman, she found that she loathed how she was never anything more to most men than a pretty face. A pair of legs. A fleeting fantasy and wonder at just what might wait under her pretty dresses.

She found, as time continued on, that she could use their lust to her advantage. A sweet smile or a flirty wink – when used properly – was the most useful weapon in a girl's arsenal. And what government guy would suspect that the sweet little dame delivering his coffee was capable of anything as extraordinary as legilimency?

They were too distracted by the swish of her impeccably fashionable skirts to wonder how she already knew their coffee orders.

* * *

Thank you for reading; I hope you enjoyed it. If you find a chance to, I love hearing what you think! -Ally


	3. Desserts

Strudel used to be one of Queenie's favorite desserts to prepare; just the scent of it filled her head with pleasant memories of her mother and grandmother that put a smile on her face for hours after. Tina preferred pie, but she certainly wasn't one to complain when an impeccably decorated strudel lowered itself to their dinner table. Ever since that one rainy afternoon, however, Queenie hasn't made a single strudel. What used to symbolize family and pleasant memories now only served to fill the witch with a sense of longing and missed opportunity.

It's not until one night, many months after Newton Scamander returned to London that Tina comes home to the unmistakable scent of a strudel lowering itself onto the table...


	4. Flutter

If one were to actually think about it, there were plenty of things around MACUSA that fluttered every single day. The enchanted notes that flew around the entire space from the start of the day until the last person left for the night certainly came to mind. People's thoughts might be described as a flutter or maybe even a flurry, but Queenie always thought they sounded more like a large crowd of birds ––– too much flapping to be appealing and more distracting than anything else.

But ladies' skirts fluttered. So did their eyelashes if they batted them the right way. Oh how Queenie tried not to notice. She tried to ignore the way her coworkers heels clicked on the tiled floors and how melodious some of the girls sounded when they laughed –– always at a man's poorly phrased joke. (How she tried to keep her heart in one piece, pining for those who were always just out of reach.)

Then, one blustery day in April as she's about to leave the building for the weekend, she catches a ghost of the most lovely thoughts about her. Most noticeably, they were too soft to be coming from any man. She spins around –– coat and golden curls glinting in the sun –– and for the briefest moment, she makes eye contact with Seraphina Picquery. The woman nods and turns to leave and Queenie steps outside, blushing as she attempts to stop her own heart from fluttering like mad.


End file.
